


Fate

by stellarmeadow



Series: Hurricane Sandy Promptfest [3]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Angst, Anonymous Sex, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-31
Updated: 2012-11-19
Packaged: 2017-11-17 10:29:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/550589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellarmeadow/pseuds/stellarmeadow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From a prompt from space: "Anonymous costumed sex. Maybe it's an AU where they've never met and have no idea who the other person is? Maybe it's not and they just don't know that they were both going to be at the same party? Either way, masks are involved and don't get removed til later... much later. When they actually figure out the identity of the other person is entirely up to you... loads of possibility there. :)"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [space](https://archiveofourown.org/users/space/gifts).



> I've never written anything quite like this, and wasn't sure I could. It's also turning out longer than I thought, as there'll be a chapter two in the next day or so. Thanks so much to space for the awesome prompt! :)
> 
> Also, huge thanks to uxseven for the gorgeous banner for the story!! :):) 
> 
>  

Steve took off his jacket, hanging it up automatically, too many years of training keeping him from just dropping it on the floor. He was exhausted from the flights he'd taken to get to Honolulu in time for the funeral. He knew he should sleep before he had to get up and deal with that--not to mention deal with a meeting with the governor, who wanted to express her condolences--no doubt complete with a photo op--at Pearl.

Sleep, however, was going to be impossible. He felt as keyed up as he did the night before an op, when no amount of exhaustion could lull him into sleep. He needed activity to take off the edge. He could go to the hotel's state of the art gym that the woman at check-in had raved about, or go for a swim, but neither idea appealed to him.

No, what he wanted wasn't readily available, especially not for a Navy SEAL whose freshly-murdered father was currently extremely high profile.

Unless he wasn't recognizable.

There'd been a club he'd visited once, home from the academy for the holidays and full of burning resentment at his father over an argument. He'd long since forgotten what they'd argued about--no matter what the subject was, the cause back then was always the fact that he'd been sent away. That he'd lost both parents when he had only really been forced to lose one.

Now he'd well and truly lost both. And this time it was his own fault.

He remembered the name of the club he'd gone to as a distraction-- _Hale Mua_ \--but how to find it was a mystery. Back then he'd still had friends here, and one of them had let the information slip in a drunken moment, and dragged Steve along for company. But he couldn't exactly go around asking about this now.

However, if there was one person guaranteed to be discreet and knowledgeable in a hotel, it was the concierge.

In under five minutes, Steve was waiting for the concierge when he went on his smoke break in a dark corner by the dumpsters. He stayed in the shadows, calling out, "Hey," as the guy pulled out his cigarettes.

"I don't have any money!" the concierge said quickly, putting up his hands, his cigarettes falling to the ground.

"I don't want any," Steve said, doing his best to project calm. "but I might give you some, if you have the information I need."

"You couldn't have stopped by the desk?" the man asked, clearly skeptical that he was safe.

"Not for this. I'm looking for the _Hale Mua_."

The concierge dropped his hands. "I see," he said, nodding. "I can understand your choice of meeting place, if you don't want to be, um...followed there."

"I don't."

"Very well." The man gave him an address not far away. "Fifteenth floor. To get in, you need the code. You pay me for the code and they take a cut. That's how it works."

Steve hadn't paid for his the last time, someone else had done it for him, but it made sense. "How much?"

"A hundred dollars." The man rubbed his fingers together, indicating payment, and Steve held out a twenty, his black gloved hands in a thin stream of light only as long as it took for the concierge to take the bill. "I'll give you the rest when I get the code."

"'Seek and ye shall find,'" the man said. "When you get to the door and they ask what you want, that's what you say."

"Thanks," Steve said, holding out the rest of the bills. He waited until the concierge had pocketed them and run off, footsteps completely gone in the distance, before he stepped out of the shadows, gloves in one of the pockets of his black cargo pants, long-sleeved black t-shirt rolled up to his elbows, still hiding his tattoos.

He found a shop that sold masks, sifting through the brightly colored and ornamented ones to find one that was plain black and would cover him from his hair to the end of his nose and paid quickly and left, turning down the next side street.

His memory of the streets was a little foggy, but he found the building nonetheless, wondering once he did if the concierge had gotten it wrong. The plain office building looked like it might house a bank. Maybe a dentist.

But the lobby door was open, and when he stepped off the camera-less elevator onto the 15th floor, mask firmly in place under his baseball cap, two men who looked like club security were standing by the doors.

"What do you want?" they asked.

"Seek and ye shall find?"

The one looked at the other, then nodded at Steve and let him inside. He took off his cap and shoved it in a pocket as he surveyed the room. The whole floor had been turned into a club, with a main area in the middle, and a bunch of doors that Steve assumed led to private rooms along the walls. Dozens of men in various costumes--and in various states of dress--milled around, talking or even dancing--if you could call the slow grind they were doing to the music dancing.

One man caught his eye instantly. His face and most of his hair was covered by his red mask, only a hint of dark hair peeping out from the back of the mask. He was definitely Steve's type--compact, with solid muscles fully on display in a dark, well-fitting t-shirt.

Steve's mouth watered as he imagined tasting those muscles. He grabbed two drinks and made a beeline for the man, who was in the middle of a conversation with someone in a white mask.

"...don't know," the man in the red mask was saying. "I've never been surfing."

"You should try it." White Mask leaned in, and Steve had to quell the urge to push him away from someone Steve didn't even know, and yet already thought of as his. "You'd be great with those muscles."

White Mask reached out to touch those muscles, and Steve couldn't help himself. He bumped into White Mask, spilling one of the drinks all over him and dropping the cup on the man's foot. "Oh, I'm sorry," Steve said, failing to sound entirely sincere. "I didn't see you there."

He'd been standing in White Mask's line of vision for long enough that it was an obvious lie, but before the man could point that out, Steve gripped his arm, much harder than necessary. "Maybe you should go clean that up somewhere," he said, his voice steely.

"Maybe so," White Mask said, and Steve let him go as he stepped back. "Excuse me."

Steve turned around to face his prey, the man in the red mask, who was smiling faintly. "Nice show," the man said, a hint of an accent that was familiar but definitely not Hawaiian. Something Steve thought he should recognize from TV. "Was that all for my benefit?"

"Mine, actually," Steve said, holding out the drink. "And I gave up a perfectly good drink just to pull it off. Does that get me a conversation, at least?"

"At least," the man said, taking the drink. "If you were going to plan ahead, you should've brought an extra drink so you'd still have one for yourself."

"Wasn't planning that far ahead. I'm kind of winging it here."

The man huffed, his smile growing. "Me, too. Never been here before."

Which was a common enough thing to say at a place like this, but Steve believed this one. He didn't have the smooth, practiced charm of a person who frequented places where they had to hide. Steve may not have been in this particular place more than once, but he'd had more than enough practice hiding in Naval Intelligence. "So this is your first time?"

"At something like this, yes." The unspoken sentiment that it wasn't his first time with a man was there, and Steve felt a vague sense of jealousy that was unsettling. "You?"

"I was here once. A long time ago. But I've been off island for a while."

The man nodded, looking as if he was actually interested in conversation, which was not how Steve remembered any of the men he'd met here before. He liked it. "What brought you back?"

"To the island, or here?"

"Either. Both."

Steve met the man's eyes as a glancing light broke the shadow of the mask for just a second, showing him they were a bright blue. "What brought me back to the island ended up bringing me here," he answered finally. Truthful, but vague enough to be anything.

The man nodded again, as if that made sense. "Stress has a way of making us want to be taken out of ourselves."

Steve cocked his head, studying the set of the man's mouth. "Sounds like you're speaking from experience."

"I'm here, aren't I?" He spread his arms out wide. "Stress gets to everybody in the end. Gotta find ways to deal with it."

"Indeed." Steve found himself wanting to talk more, to find out what had this guy so stressed out he'd gone to this extreme for the first time. But...they all had their secrets, and their reasons, and Steve's could get him disgraced out of a job, at least for the time being. And they were _both_ there in masks for a reason. "So," Steve said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder towards a wall of doors. "Wanna get a room?"

The man burst out laughing, and Steve found himself liking both the sound and the delighted grin that went with it. "You're not very smooth, are you?"

"I'll have you know my nickname is 'Smooth Dog,'" Steve said, before he remembered that too much info might be a problem. Still, it wasn't like it was his Social Security number.

"Please tell me it was meant ironically."

"It was very serious," Steve said gravely.

The grin faded into a softer smile. "Then I'll assume that you're just nervous and that I should be flattered?"

"Sure." It was true, so why not, especially if it got him what he desperately wanted by now. "Is that a yes?"

The man looked him up and down, tapping his fingers against his thigh for a moment. "Yeah," he said, finally, and Steve let out the breath he'd been holding. "Lead the way."

Steve moved through the room quickly, feeling the man close behind. He took the first room that had an unoccupied sign, letting the man in behind him before he closed and locked the door.

The room was lit by one dim lamp by a small bed, only big enough for two if the two were on top of each other. Which was the point, after all, so why waste space?

"You think that sheet's been washed?" the man asked doubtfully.

Steve glanced at the unwrinkled bed. "When you leave the room, they clean it," he said, remembering that from the last time he'd been there. "The unoccupied sign doesn't go back up until it's clean."

"Good to know," the man said. "So...do I have to take back my mockery of your smoothness if I ask what we do now?"

Steve could've sworn the man had implied he'd been with a man. "You've never...?" 

"I have, but...I don't know the rules here." He waved a hand around. "In this place."

"We make our own rules," Steve said, stepping closer until they were almost touching. "Do you--can I kiss you?"

"That'd probably be a good start."

The slight tremor in the man's voice made Steve's cock twitch. He leaned in, careful not to bump their masks off, and pressed their lips together. Slowly at first, an almost chaste touch, and then the man pulled him in, arms encircling him as his lips opened, inviting Steve inside.

He hated the masks in the way, wanted more freedom to explore, but if it weren't for the mask, he wouldn't be here now, so he would deal. Steve dragged his lips down the man's neck, tracing the shirt collar with his tongue.

He tasted amazing, a taste Steve could get addicted to if he had that luxury. But he didn't, so he did his best to memorize the taste and smell. His hands tugged at the man's shirt, pulling it up so he could feel the muscles he'd seen beneath it. They were warm and hard under his palms, making Steve itch for more time to touch slowly, to trace them with his tongue for hours.

Steve wanted badly to ask the man to take his shirt off, but he was afraid he'd be asked to return the favor, and his tattoos weren't exactly common. Too easy to identify him that way. So he settled for pushing the shirt up and dropping to his knees, his tongue tracing the lines of muscle along the man's abdomen.

He reached for the man's fly, looking up to find him staring down intently. "Can I?"

"Please, God, yes," he said, fingers playing with the hairs at the base of Steve's skull, one hand resting on Steve's neck.

Steve undid the man's fly, pushing his pants and underwear out of the way carefully to unveil his cock. Hard, thick and uncut, veins just visible in the faint light, making Steve want to trace them with his tongue until he knew them well enough to draw a map. He licked his way up from base to tip, earning a noise that sent a jolt through his own cock.

"Let me..." The man sat down on the bed, and Steve smiled as his fingers slid down the length of that cock. Apparently he hadn't lost his touch, not if one lick buckled the man's knees.

If one lick could do that.... Steve leaned in, slipping his lips over the head and taking the man's cock slowly into his mouth, each inch earning him fingers digging harder into his shoulders and sounds that he knew would haunt him later.

He'd want this man for ages once he left, and he'd never get him again. So he'd make it as good for both of them as he could possibly manage. He pushed on until his nose was pressed against the soft curls on the man's skin, swallowing around him, drinking in the sounds as much as the taste.

Because the sounds were making him so hard he was starting to worry he wouldn't last long enough for the man to touch him. The sounds were amazing, everything was amazing, and Steve swallowed again before he began to move, bobbing his head up and down, hollowing his cheeks as hard as he could.

He'd have bruises on his arms from the way the man was digging his fingers in, but they'd mix with the tattoos and no one would notice unless they looked very close. Even if they did, bruises weren't exactly uncommon in his line of work.

The man was close, Steve could feel it in the way he moved his hips, a little desperate, matching the cries that weren't quite making it out of the back of his throat anymore. It was heady and addictive, having this kind of power under his hands and mouth, and he relished every second as the man fell apart, letting his cock slip free reluctantly at the frantic tug of the man's hands a moment before he came, striping Steve's mask and lips and chin.

Steve wiped his mouth on his sleeve as he milked the man through the last of his orgasm, his hand slowing as the man stilled and stopped, flopping back onto the bed and breathing heavily. "That was..." he said, stopping for a deep breath, "good. No, great. In fact, that was stupendous. Fabulous, even."

"I didn't know you had a thesaurus," Steve murmured, his cock straining against his pants. "And here I forgot mine."

"Let's see what else I can make you forget," the man said, sitting up to pull on Steve, arranging him until he was lying on his back on the bed, the man kneeling between his spread legs.

He didn't ask for permission, he just undid Steve's fly and tugged his pants down quickly, smiling as he wrapped a hand around Steve's cock. Just a squeeze from that warm palm was almost unbearable; at the first feel of that tongue on him, Steve's hips came up off the bed.

"Fuck," Steve muttered. "Fuck fuck fuck."

"Too bad we don't have time for that," he heard before the man's mouth went down on him, all the way down, and Steve forgot the English language.

He came ridiculously fast, not having nearly enough time to enjoy it before he was pushing the man off and coming all over the man's hand and his own stomach.

When he'd caught his breath, he sat up, desperately wishing he could find a way to stay. Maybe meet again. He thought he saw something similar in the man's eyes before he looked away. But he was still a sailor, and laws were laws, and he had no idea who he'd be revealing himself to, and the very idea was insane.

He pulled the man into a long, wet kiss before tasting his way down the man's neck, nosing his shirt aside to nip at his shoulder where it met his neck. Steve needed something, needed to know he wouldn't be forgotten right away, so he sucked at that spot, half afraid he'd be pushed away, but the man just tightened his arms around Steve's back and held him in place.

When he was done, he licked at the spot, knowing it would be purple for days, and every time the man looked in the mirror, he'd remember.

Steve raised his head, looking into the man's eyes, just making them out behind the mask and remembering the bright blue he'd seen. "Thank you," he said, then laughed at himself.

The man joined in. "Right back at you?" he said, still laughing.

"Really," Steve said, because he needed him to know how much this had helped, "you have no idea. The last few days have just been...hell. And I...well, thank you."

"The last six months have been hell," the man replied, "so thank you."

Steve nodded, taking one more kiss before he forced himself to let go and stand up, righting his clothes. "Should I walk you out?" he asked, not sure he could keep himself from following the man home if he did. He itched to grab on and never let him go.

"No," he said after a moment. "You go on. I'm just going to...." He waved a hand down at his pants, still undone, and his cock, now soft, waiting to be tucked away. Where Steve would never see it again.

"Right. Um....thanks again."

The man nodded, looking as if he was about to say something else, but he just shook his head. "Yeah. Bye."

"Bye."

The word sounded so final, and Steve ignored the feeling. Just another in a long series of painful goodbyes he'd had in the last week. He steeled himself, turned on his heel, and walked out of the room without looking back.

***


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks like this is going to be a bit longer than I thought. I'm estimating 4 chapters...we'll see.

***

To Steve's amazement, he slept. Not a lot, and mostly badly, but the three hours of solid sleep was still more than he'd had since the night before he'd killed Anton Hesse. The night before his father was murdered.

It was enough to get him through the funeral, though, through the echoing twenty-one gun salute that made him flinch inside. It only served to intensify that echo of the shot he'd heard over the phone, the one that seemed to reverberate around in his head constantly. The only break he'd had from the noise had been the night before, with the man in the red mask.

The man he was forbidding himself to think about. Once he'd gotten a few hours of rest, he'd tossed and turned, plagued by dreams of his mystery man, a tangle of actual memories and fantasies all rolled together, leaving him hard and breathless when he woke.

He'd made up his mind that morning that there was no point in thinking about some guy he'd never see again. And yet three times at the funeral he'd seen someone the same height and build and stopped dead, wondering.

At this rate he'd drive himself crazy by dinner.

The governor effectively paused all thoughts of his mysterious partner when she showed up at Pearl without a camera crew, much to Steve's surprise. Finding out his father had been friends with her was another surprise, but hard on the heels of that news was the biggest surprise of all--a job offer.

Her motives were obvious, and he didn't need to be tied down to a local government. For all her claims of immunity and means, he had a feeling she wouldn't be so quick to back them up when push came to shove. And he'd at least learned his way around the red tape of the Navy, and he'd earned himself a lot of knives to cut through the tape.

His decision was tested, though, upon running into Chin Ho Kelly and finding out that HPD had put a cop practically fresh off the plane on the investigation into his father's murder. The best detectives at HPD with the best resources should be tracking down leads, and all they could manage was one lousy mainlander?

Fuck that. He'd go see for himself what he could find at the scene. After all, Hesse was still the subject of his investigation, and the Navy had more clout than HPD.

Two hours later, Steve was ducking his way past the crime scene tape and into his father's house. He wasn't sure what he'd expected, but the combination of the familiar house, virtually unchanged since his mother's death, and the chaos of a crime scene, was...unsettling.

For all that he'd seen his share of bloodshed, nothing had prepared him for seeing his father's blood splattered all over the place. His brain helpfully supplied the conversation with Hesse and the gunshot, as if it was playing on a loop. He could almost picture the shot just from the pattern.

He closed his eyes against the sight, but it just played on in his head, so he searched for something else to distract him. His mind zeroed in on the night before, the taste and smell of the man he'd met a welcome change from the horror he'd been picturing.

Mind grounded for the moment, Steve sidestepped the exact murder scene and went through the house, noting a few pieces of evidence before ending up in the garage. Just as he'd written it off for any kind of information, his eyes landed on the old toolbox on the shelf, a partially obscured Champion spark plug decal left with only the word "Champ."

The nickname his father had never used before that last call, when he'd said it twice.

Steve approached the toolbox carefully, as if it might explode. It didn't, though, just opened up normally, as if it wasn't going to contain anything earth shattering or life altering.

Misleading, as it turned out, since the information was about as destructive as a landmine. A lot of it didn't make any sense, though he suspected it was evidence of some kind. But the tape recorder...that was a whole other story. His father couldn't trust the people he worked with? How far did that go? And did it have anything to do with his father's death?

A ridiculous thought--Victor had shot his father in retaliation for Anton. Simple as that. Steve's work had gotten his father killed. Any possibility of a tie in wasn't worth considering.

He heard a noise a second before a voice yelled, "You! Hands up! Don't move!"

Steve's gun was out before he was finished demanding to know who the hell was pointing a gun at him in his father's house. Detective Danny Williams, apparently, with an ID to prove it. Steve put his gun away as the detective did, hoping for some cooperation, but apparently the loudmouth not only didn't want to share his info, he wasn't interested in anything Steve had to share as well.

He especially didn't want to share the toolbox, though how it was evidence in a room that was clearly untouched by the murder Steve didn't quite get. Williams went up in Steve's estimation a little, though, when Steve's taunt about calling for back up garnered a "No, an ambulance," in response.

The guy had balls, Steve had to give him that. He looked at Williams, seeing him without a red haze of annoyance for the first time. His height and build...dammit, he was losing his mind if he even thought for a second that an angry cop from the mainland had actually gone to the _Hale Mua_. He either needed to get laid more often, or become a monk, if one night was going to drive him this far around the bend.

Though he couldn't help but think, as he waited for the Governor to pick up his call, that there was something about Danny Williams. He clearly didn't have a background with Steve's father, and he was so far removed from kama'aina it was hilarious. And yet he cared so much about the case that he was ready to pick a fight with a Navy SEAL rather than let him walk off with anything from the house that might be evidence.

Could be just a territorial thing, but Steve's gut was telling him it was more than that.

"Let's just say I've found something that changed my mind," he told the Governor when she asked why he was taking the job. He told himself he only meant the toolbox, nothing else.

He wasn't sure he even believed it himself, but he'd keep saying it until it was believable enough to get by.

***

Steve left the house, but it didn't make Danny Williams leave his head. He was as firmly entrenched as the man from the night before, and the longer the two of them sat around in his brain, the more he started to wonder if they really were the same person.

He didn't need to pay attention to drive to HPD, so he took refuge in the familiar. First rule of any puzzle: analyze the evidence.

1) The masked man was the same height and build as Danny.

2) The masked man had the same color eyes.

3) There was a remarkable similarity in the accents between the two, neither having accents common to the island.

4) If anyone was going to need to hide his...well, his needs of that nature, it would be an angry, uptight haole cop in the middle of HPD.

So it was possible. Of course, given the past week, it was also possible Steve was just finally losing his mind. He'd gotten one flash of the masked man's eyes in actual light. And he was certain there had to be more than one person currently on Oahu with an accent like that who could conceivably be the same height.

The masked man's shirt had shown off some nice muscles, but Danny's shirt was a little too loose to tell if he had the same kind of physique. Close, definitely. But close enough that Steve would pick him out in a lineup? Maybe...maybe not.

Then there was the hair. Danny's was much lighter than what was showing from under the mask the man had had on, but Steve hadn't gotten a very good look at the back of Danny's hair. It could've been darker at the bottom. There was no way to know for sure what the rest of the masked man's hair looked like.

He arrived at HPD no closer to any decision on whether or not Danny Williams was his masked man, but certain that he was interested in a little more information. Danny's captain was only too happy to tell him more, as he handed over the files on the murder.

"He's a great detective," Captain Hookano said. "Long list of commendations from Newark. Smart. He just has...a temper."

"Really?" Steve joked. "I hadn't noticed."

"He doesn't even try to fit in," Hookano said. "He pushes everybody--cops, detectives, the lab, paper pushers, you name it. You try to explain Island Time to the guy, he just stares at you like you're speaking another language."

Steve folded his arms over his chest. "And that's a bad thing?"

"It is if you want to get anything done here."

 _Unless you have the backing of the Governor._ HPD might be stupid enough to lay back and take their time, but Steve had no intention of anyone on his task force doing the same. He needed smart and pushy...and loud didn't hurt either, under the right circumstances. He needed Danny Williams. "He seems like a bit of a problem for you, Captain," Steve said. "Maybe I should take him off your hands."

He didn't even try to make it sound like a question.

***


	3. Chapter 3

Deciding to take Danny Williams for his task force might've been an easy decision for Steve, but getting Danny to accept it was a real pain in the ass. 

But Steve had the feeling it would be worth it. Danny argued just about sharing information, but the change in his voice, the careful way he spoke when he mentioned Steve's dad, was different. As though he didn't want to hurt Steve any further, despite his annoyance.

And boy was he annoyed, despite Steve's attempts to rationalize his decision. "Your captain said you transferred in from New Jersey six months ago," Steve told him, as logical as the ten other reasons he'd given himself on the way there, "so your eye's still fresh."

"You know, I appreciate it, but my psych eval's not for six weeks."

Just what, exactly, was the guy fighting for, anyway? A department that treated him like shit? This fabulous way of life he has? Steve spared a millisecond glance at the couch. "Fold-out bed, no ring on your finger--you obviously moved here to be close to your daughter. Which means in between visits, all you got is your job, and you take pride in it. That's what I'm looking for."

More logic, which Danny still fought. " Yeah, but you know what? It's guys like you who think you know how to do everything better, and that only makes my job harder."

Screw logic, then, he'd pull rank. "You got no choice, detective. The governor gave me jurisdiction; I'm making you my partner. We're gonna get along great."

He turned around and left without another word, fully expecting Danny to be behind him. It wasn't until he reached Danny's car that he turned around, not bothering to hold back a triumphant smirk as Danny rounded the car to get into the driver's seat.

It wasn't until Danny was complaining about his ex dragging him to a pineapple-infested hellhole that something triggered in Steve's mind.

Danny had transferred to Hawaii six months ago.

 _The last six months have been hell._ He remembered those words from his mystery man.

He added that to the list of similarities that were a bit too much to ignore.

And then Grace called. The change in Danny's tone reminded Steve of the sun coming out after a storm, which immediately made Steve roll his eyes at himself--why not just throw a rainbow in there and embrace the cliché with both arms?

He latched on to something else instead, the nickname 'Danno'--obvious enough, but he had to ask anyway, not taking offense at Danny's brush off (why start now?).

"Danno," he said quietly to himself, filing it away with everything he'd learned so far.

***

Steve handed the girl off to a policewoman, assuring the girl she'd be fine and they'd look for her family, and then turned to find Danny. He knew Danny was fine, of course--not only had he said so, but he'd been the one to take Doran out to keep him from shooting Steve. Even so, Steve needed to see with his own eyes.

Danny was sitting in the back of an ambulance, waiting to have his arm bandaged. Steve couldn't help but look at the muscle that had been hidden under that rumpled shirt. Put one more in the column for similarities--Steve's palm itched to touch that muscle, certain that if he did, it would feel familiar.

"What are you looking at?" Danny asked. "Never seen a bullet hole before?"

"It's a scratch," Steve said, trying to look as if that was all he'd been studying. He nodded at Danny's other shoulder, firmly covered with his shirt. "It's so small you didn't even need to take off your whole shirt."

"Will you go make sure HPD doesn't fuck things up and let me suffer in peace?" Danny asked, but Steve couldn't miss the way he tugged at his shirt, as if to pull it even closer to his neck.

Steve obliged, wondering if Danny was just modest, or if he was hiding something. Maybe a hickey, left by an encounter he didn't want to have to explain? The question was eating at him as he walked away, mostly to avoid ripping the shirt off just to find out. It was driving him a little crazy, on top of everything else, wondering if Danny was the man in the red mask and starting to think if he wasn't, Steve was going to be bitterly disappointed.

His annoyance bubbled over when Danny lost his carefulness about Steve's father's death, and challenged him a few too many times in front of everyone. HPD needed to see a leader in the early days of the task force, and Steve couldn't have them thinking he was weak.

So he strong armed Danny, almost regretting it as the feel and smell of him confirmed one of two things--either he was dead on about Danny being the man in the red mask, or he was losing his mind.

Of course, once Danny punched him, he wasn't sure it would matter. Even if Danny was amenable to finding out who Steve was, he didn't seem to like the real Steve nearly as much as he had the masked one. Maybe unmasking himself would lose him not only a fantasy, but the reality he was starting to realize he needed to keep working with him every day.

Danny might not like the real Steve, but Steve was liking the real Danny. A lot. Possibly too much.

***

A pink stuffed bunny. Of all things, a pink stuffed bunny? Steve had noticed it in the back seat, wondered why Danny had one, but figured it had to do with his daughter. Then he pulled it out and gave it to a little girl, getting everywhere when Steve was getting nowhere in persuading her to go away.

He stared at Danny, who was watching the girl walk away. Which was when Steve got his first good look at the back of Danny's head, or, more specifically, the one area his mystery man hadn't been covered. Dark brown, curling familiarly against his neck.

There were too many similarities piled up to ignore, but there were even more compelling reasons why making an assumption could be something Steve would regret--Danny's right hook being one of them.

He just had to figure out how to get Danny to reveal something irrefutable. And then hope that Danny actually stopped hating him.

***


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the encouragement and lovely comments along the way--I really hope you enjoy the last chapter!! :)

If Steve had thought taking his shirt off on the beach would get Danny to fall at his feet, or at the very least reciprocate and show off his right shoulder, he was mistaken. He regretted not showing off his tattoos the night before now--Danny would have recognized them instantly and known who Steve was.

Assuming, of course, he didn't already know, and his apparent hatred wasn't just about being conscripted into duty.

Except suddenly he didn't seem to hate Steve so much. Their conversation was civil. No, more than civil. It was comfortable, like getting to know someone important should feel.

As Steve clinked his beer bottle with Danny's, he started to think maybe, just maybe, there was some hope.

***

As Steve left the ER--where he'd gone only because Danny had threatened to do the stitches himself otherwise--night was falling across Honolulu. A cab was waiting for him, and he gave the driver his address before sitting back and closing his eyes.

_Book 'em, Danno._

He'd said it just for fun, looking for an argument or something to pull himself out of the fact that he'd just shot Hesse, a man he'd chased for five years.

The man who killed his father.

Instead of the argument he'd been looking for, however, he'd gotten an almost fond reply. Oh, sure, the words weren't particularly fond, but the tone and look that had gone with them were definitely bordering on fond, at the very least.

He thought about Danny, thousands of miles from home, in a shithole apartment, working with people who treated him like a pariah. Six months of hell, indeed.

Danny needed someone on his side. He needed a break, and some fun. Steve hoped at least he had something fun planned for the weekend with his daughter.

Actually, maybe Steve could do something about that.

"Hey," Steve said, opening his eyes and leaning toward the front seat, "can we make a stop at the Kahala Hotel on the way?"

"It's your dime, brah."

***

There wasn't a lot to do while their offices were being set up, so when they'd finished putting away what they could, Steve, Danny, Chin and Kono sat around in their new conference room and christened their new home with beer.

Steve couldn't help sneaking glances at Danny. He looked about a thousand times more relaxed than he had yesterday. Amazing what a successful collar and a team that actually liked you could do for a guy.

Having somewhere nice to go with his daughter didn't hurt. Steve had been half convinced Danny would try to make him eat the gift card. When he hadn't, and when he'd even gotten out a thank you, Steve had needed to get the hell out of the room fast, before he did anything more stupid than handing a gift of over a thousand dollars to someone he barely knew.

He couldn't keep his eyes from straying to Danny's right shoulder, though, still stubbornly buttoned up tight under that shirt. He wanted that final confirmation of something that he was so certain of. He wasn't even sure he'd act on the knowledge, didn't know what he'd do if he saw his mark there, to be honest. But he needed to know.

The four of them left the office and went to Side Street, sharing plates and laughter until Chin decided it was time to go. Kono begged a ride, leaving Steve and Danny alone. Danny offered Steve a lift if he'd pay the tab, and Steve wasn't about to let that chance go.

He was silent most of the way out to the house, clearing his throat as Danny turned onto Steve's street. "Want a beer?"

Danny hesitated only slightly before nodding as he pulled into Steve's driveway. "Sure," he said, putting the car in park and turning the engine off. Steve stopped in the kitchen long enough to take off his sling and get the beers, feeling Danny's eyes on him the entire time.

The comfortable silence they'd had in the car wasn't the same as the one that followed them out to the beach. This silence held tension, and Steve wasn't sure why until he looked at Danny, saw the set of his mouth clearly in the light of the full moon.

Steve pulled one of the beers out of the pail he'd brought with him and opened it, handing it to Danny before opening one for himself. Danny's thanks was quiet, his hand loosening his tie and pulling it off, stuffing it in his pocket. He unbuttoned the top button, and Steve's mouth went dry, but Danny stopped after two buttons and went back to drinking his beer.

"Is Grace excited about the dolphins?" Steve asked after a minute.

"I think she's planning to write a book report on dolphins to bring to the hotel," Danny said, smiling as he glanced at Steve. His eyes went back to the water for a second before landing on Steve again, his expression shifting into something more probing. As if he was trying to solve a puzzle.

"I hope you guys have a great time."

Danny nodded. "I'm sure we will. Thanks for that again, by the way."

"Least I could do," Steve said, meaning every word.

Danny smiled again as he brought his bottle up to his lips, but he missed, spilling beer down his chin and onto his shirt. "Shit," he said, putting down the beer and pulling the fabric away. "That's going to be comfortable driving home," he said, frowning down at his shirt.

"You can borrow a t-shirt," Steve said, already pushing out of his seat. He left his bottle on the beach and jogged up to the house, pulling a t-shirt out of the bags he hadn't even unpacked yet and hurrying back down.

Danny was standing in front of the chair, pulling off his shirt. Steve stopped in front of him, holding out the t-shirt as his eyes zeroed in on Danny's exposed right shoulder. On the dark mark, right where it should be.

Where Steve had put it.

His eyes shifted from that mark to Danny's face, not sure how to read the expression he found there. Danny reached out to take the shirt, but Steve seemed to have forgotten how to let it go. "It's going to be difficult to put that on with your fist around it," Danny said mildly.

"Right. Sorry." Steve let go, but didn't step back. Taking a breath, feeling as if he was about to jump out of a plane, Steve nodded at Danny's shoulder. "What happened there?"

Danny's low chuckle went straight to Steve's cock. "Apparently," he said slowly, his tone doing nothing to quell Steve's growing erection, "that's what happens when you get bit by a seal."

Steve blinked. "A seal?"

"A seal," Danny repeated, nodding. He took a step closer, and Steve had to remind himself to breathe. "Only this one was in a mask, so I didn't get a good look at him." Danny's eyes were close, the familiar blue sparkling in the moonlight. "Any idea who it might've been?"

 _Shit._ "You...you knew?"

"I'm a detective," Danny said, one corner of his mouth lifting up. "Your surprise is almost insulting."

Steve's mind was racing to figure out if Danny's attitude had changed at some definable moment. "When?" he asked.

Danny tilted his head, eyebrows coming together just a little. "When you manhandled me at Doran's," he said. "Or at least I was pretty sure then. Didn't take long to be certain."

"But...." Steve suddenly had an extreme amount of empathy for his dog, Rover, who, when Steve was eight, had actually caught up with a car after years of chasing them, and had then stared at the bumper, dumbfounded, until Steve had picked him up and taken him in the house.

"Is it going to be a problem?" Danny asked, expression turning to uncertainty as he took a step back.

"No," Steve said quickly. "I mean, no...not for me. You?"

Danny laughed, shaking his head. "You're sure that Smooth Dog thing wasn't just a big joke on you?"

"No. I mean, yes. I mean..." Steve let out a long breath. "I don't know what we're doing here," he said, falling back on the same honesty that had gotten him what he wanted that first night.

"That depends on you," Danny replied. "We can forget about it, and whether I stay on the task force is up to you--though I gotta say, I don't particularly want to give up this job."

"Or?"

Danny licked his lips. "Or we can... _not_ forget about it."

"Do you...do you want..."

"Steven." Danny's voice managed to sound fond and exasperated at the same time. "I used your own move on myself here," he said, picking up his wet shirt from the chair and shaking it in Steve's direction. "Do I need to get a hammer? Because I'm sure I saw one in the garage. I can go get it and hit you over the head if it will help."

Steve stopped trying to find words, stepping forward to grab Danny and pull him into a kiss instead. Fuck, yes, he should've just done this yesterday, and then there'd have been no doubt in his mind. He'd have known this taste and feel anywhere, from the tongue invading his mouth, to the shape and feel of Danny in his arms.

"Upstairs," Danny muttered, one hand gripping Steve's shirt.

"Right. Upstairs." Steve grabbed Danny's arm, and Danny let go of the shirt, letting Steve guide him through the house and up the stairs to Steve's old bedroom. As soon as they were through the door, Steve pulled Danny in, not so much kissing him as devouring his mouth as Steve's hands got their feel of all that warm muscle and skin he'd been dreaming about.

He'd known from the feel of Danny that first night, even mostly through his shirt, that he was strong, but to actually feel those muscles moving, Steve's hands pressed against the hot skin covering them, was a whole different world, and Steve wanted more skin on his, wanted everything, right now.

Steve broke the kiss and pulled away long enough to rip his own t-shirt over his head, wincing at the pull in his shoulder wound, but refusing to let it stop him. He watched Danny get with the program and deal with his pants and shoes as Steve took care of his own.

He couldn't help but stop for a moment, though, to get a good look at Danny completely naked, pale and almost unreal in the bright moonlight from the window. He was better than anything Steve's imagination could have conjured, and Steve stepped just close enough to put his hands on Danny's shoulders, running them down his arms and up his back, feeling Danny breathe faster as Steve's hands moved around to the front. He skimmed over Danny's nipples, Danny's sharp intake of breath causing Steve to move another step closer.

His hands paused at Danny's hips, wanting to keep going, to feel every inch of Danny's body, but even more than that, he wanted to taste. He guided Danny backwards to the bed, giving him a little push that left Danny sprawled out on his back on the bed, eyes mere slits as he looked up at Steve. Danny's cock was hard, and Steve remembered what it tasted like, the shape and feel of it on his tongue. He wanted that again, eventually, but there was so much more that he hadn't experienced yet, all laid out for him, and he couldn't figure out where to start.

"Are you planning to stand there all night?" Danny asked, his voice hoarse, making Steve bite his lip. "Not that I'm complaining about the view," Danny added, his eyes traveling slowly down Steve's naked body and back up, "but there are a lot of things I'd like to do to that body that require you to be down here with me."

Steve pressed one knee onto the bed beside Danny's hip, sliding his other across so he was sitting on Danny's thighs. Steve moved his hips a few times, enjoying the feel of the soft, furred skin under his ass, his cock bumping against Danny's, both hard, Danny's body jerking just a little beneath him at each touch.

Taking a deep breath to focus, wanting this to last, Steve put his hands on Danny's hips, thumbs tracing the indents that led from Danny's cock up to his hips. Steve slid his hands slowly up Danny's chest, learning the shape of every muscle, where there was more skin and more hair, the difference in the feel between his stomach and the slow rise of his pecs, solid, hard muscle leading to dark nipples that Steve longed to suck.

And he could, he realized, sliding back just a little down Danny's thighs and dipping his head, his tongue starting just above Danny's cock, licking a stripe up to Danny's navel that had Danny doing his best to buck Steve off his hips. Steve was too strong, though, keeping Danny in place as he continued his journey, his tongue traveling up the middle of Danny's sternum, veering to the left to flick at one hard nipple. Steve rolled his tongue around it, testing it with his teeth before giving it a lingering kiss and moving across to the other one, his tongue leaving a wet trail across Danny's chest.

The other nipple received the same treatment, the sounds Danny was making already familiar from the other night, sounds he thought he'd never tire of, no matter how often or how long he heard them. The thought made him pause to swallow against something threatening to overwhelm him, but he pushed it back, his tongue working its way back across to Danny's right shoulder, not stopping until Steve reached the mark he'd left there the other night.

He licked at his mark, nipped at it a few times, working it to make it dark all over again. He wanted to make it permanent, the thought of it being there every day hitting him deep in the gut, and he pushed that thought aside, too, for another time. Because Danny's neck was there, waiting for Steve's tongue and lips and teeth to work their way up under Danny's ear, down the line of his jaw to his chin, until finally Steve found Danny's lips once more.

The kiss was hotter and wetter than anything he'd ever experienced, even with Danny the first time, and Steve lost himself in it for a moment, before he managed to break free to work his way down the other jaw.

"Want..." Danny said, his fingers scrabbling at Steve's back as if they were looking for something solid to hold into. "Want you...."

"I'm not going anywhere," Steve whispered against Danny's earlobe.

A harsh breath, possibly intended to be a laugh, escaped Danny's chest. "'S the problem," Danny said, and Steve noticed then that he was thrusting up against Steve in little pushes. "You..." Danny trailed off as Steve bit lightly where Danny's shoulder met his neck, "want you," Danny continued, breathless, but with determination, "to fuck me."

Steve bit down harder than he'd meant to at the mere thought, causing Danny to thrust up sharply against him. Steve lifted his head with effort, meeting Danny's eyes. "Are you sure?"

"Are you kidding?" Danny's smile, combined with the wildness that tinged his voice, made Steve thrust a little. "I had to keep myself from following you home the other night just for that."

So he hadn't been alone in that, either, Steve realized. The thought that Danny had wanted him just as much before he knew who Steve was, that he wanted Steve now, even more, when he did know who Steve was, what he was getting himself into, had Steve taking Danny's mouth all over again, tongue delving deep inside, as if he could maybe crawl inside Danny through his mouth and take up residence there.

Except there was an even better way to be inside Danny. Steve broke the kiss, leaning over to get a condom and lube out of the nightstand. Danny's hands on his hips were distracting, but Steve focused, getting the condom open and rolling it onto himself, swallowing hard at the look in Danny's eyes as he watched. Steve didn't want to stop looking at Danny, but he wanted to feel him pressed against him, nothing between them as he took Danny for the first time.

He glanced over his shoulder and smiled, reaching down and pulling on Danny's shoulders. "Up," he said, when Danny resisted.

"What the--"

"Look," Steve said, twisting around so he was behind Danny, who was facing the big mirror over Steve's bureau.

"Oh." The word was barely more than a breath, cut off by Danny's gasp as Steve's hand wrapped around his cock, slick with lube, sliding up and down the length of it as Steve moved in behind Danny, both of them on their knees. The position left Danny's body visible in the mirror, head to knees, and Steve let go of Danny's cock, hand sliding down the length of one strong thigh before moving back behind Danny, one finger sliding down into Danny's crack, making him arch back into the touch.

Steve kept his eyes on Danny's in the mirror as his middle finger pressing slowly inside Danny's body. Danny's hiss held no pain, only heat, and Steve had to force himself to go slow, to wait until he could feel the ring of muscle relaxing enough to put in two fingers. Three fingers was quick and short before Steve pulled out altogether, spreading more lube across his cock and barely remembering to cap the bottle before he tossed it aside.

He shuffled his knees until his cock was sliding between Danny's ass, gliding over his hole a few times before finding its target. Steve guided himself carefully inside, one hand on his cock, the other splayed across Danny's abdomen, dark and possessive against Danny's pale skin, holding him in place as Steve entered him slowly, inch by inch.

He didn't even notice at first when he was inside Danny, pushing as if he could get even further before he realized they were pressed together. Danny's face in the mirror was a thing of beauty, eyes narrowed, mouth open, head tilted back just a little, as if it wanted to fall back onto Steve's shoulder, but Danny didn't want to take his eyes off the mirror.

Steve pulled out and pushed back in again, both hands moving up to Danny's chest, holding him tight against Steve as he thrust, one hand toying with Danny's nipple. Danny's face was expressive, and Steve thanked God that he hadn't missed out on this chance to see that, no mask in the way, watching every reaction as Steve pinched a nipple, as he slid his hand down slowly, his lips and teeth working Danny's shoulder, until his hand reached Danny's cock again.

At the touch on his cock, Danny hissed, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. His hands reached back, finding Steve's ass, pulling on it, urging him to speed up. As much as Steve wanted to take his time, he couldn't resist, found himself thrusting harder as he watched their bodies move in the mirror, perfectly in tune, as if they'd been together for ages.

He had a sudden vision of them years from now, still wanting each other this much, making him thrust harder, as if he could get deeper somehow. Then the thought was gone, all thought was gone as he came, his arms pulling Danny tight against him, eyes closing against his will.

He realized eventually that he was still making little thrusts into Danny's body, and Danny was moving with it. Steve opened his eyes to see Danny had taken over, jacking himself, eyes trained on Steve's reflection in the mirror. He was close, Steve could tell, and he put his hand around Danny's, helping him through a few more strokes before Danny froze, coating both their hands as he came.

Steve kept their hands moving until Danny stilled, sagging back against Steve's body, his head finally resting on Steve's shoulder. Steve wiped his hand off on the sheet as he kissed Danny's jaw before lowering them both onto their sides on the bed.

He slipped out of Danny's body, feeling the loss, and wrapped one leg around both of Danny's, his arms wrapped around Danny's torso, Steve's face pressed into Danny's neck as they both caught their breath.

"That," Danny said, his voice breaking, forcing him to stop to clear his throat, "that was...." He waved a hand around in a motion that Steve assumed meant something to him, and then dropped his hand, as if it was too much energy to hold it up.

"What, no thesaurus?" Steve teased, licking at Danny's skin, loving the taste of sweat and salt and Danny. Addictive taste, there was no way around it, and he didn't know how this was going to go, but he knew he didn't want to give this up.

Danny moved, managing to turn himself around to face Steve without fully leaving Steve's embrace. "Fuck words," Danny said, opting to lean in for a long kiss that had Steve's cock doing its best to get back up again.

Steve was fighting to keep his eyes open, though. Part of him didn't want to sleep, but as long as Danny stayed there, as long as they were wrapped around each other, he'd be okay with a little sleep. A very little.

Danny yawned against Steve's cheek. "Half an hour," Danny muttered.

"What?"

"Half an hour. Then round two."

Steve smiled, placing a kiss on Danny's forehead as they drifted off to sleep.

***

Steve woke up to the feel of lips on his collarbone, just to the side of the bandage on his gunshot wound. He shifted, moving closer, his hand trailing up Danny's back and into Danny's hair. "Morning," Steve said, smiling down at Danny, who was looking up at him even as his lips were kissing their way around Steve's bandage.

"Morning," Danny said against Steve's skin, his voice rough.

"Sleep well?"

Danny's grin matched the one Steve could feel on his own face. "When I slept," Danny said, sliding until he was mostly covering Steve's body. " _Someone_ kept waking me up."

"I didn't hear you complaining," Steve replied, humming with contentment as Danny's hand made its way down Steve's chest.

"And you won't hear me complaining," Danny said. "Nothing to complain about here. Not at all."

The words settled Steve a little, but he still felt the need to ask. "So, then...you're okay with all this?" He waved a hand, hoping that Danny would get that he meant everything--work, them in...well, he hesitated to call it a relationship, but....

"Do I look like I'm having regrets?" Danny asked, his hand hovering on Steve's stomach, pinky finger straying down into the hair below.

"No, I just...it's...a lot."

He could tell Danny was weighing his words carefully before he spoke. "When you went after Hesse," Danny said at last, "I heard the shots, even through the chaos where I was. I didn't know until you were standing on that container and I'd caught the last guy that you were alive. And then when I saw this," he nodded at the bandage on Steve's chest, "I just...I was trying so hard to be sure you were the guy from the club, and I almost lost that chance altogether. I'd been trying to figure out how to bring it up ever since."

"I should've said something that night, about seeing you again, or something." Steve's fingers sifted through Danny's hair. "I wanted to."

"Me, too, but...we had our reasons."

"Reasons that haven't disappeared."

Danny nodded. "I know this could cause problems for you. The Navy--"

"I'm in the Reserves," Steve said. "And DADT isn't going to last much longer." Steve swallowed, watching Danny carefully. "What about you?"

"I don't think my boss has a problem with my sexual preferences," Danny said, clearly holding back a laugh.

"Smart ass," Steve said, grin fading as he asked the question he'd been dreading. "You have a daughter. Is this going to cause you problems with your ex?"

Danny's easy expression was already causing Steve to relax before he even heard the answer. "Rachel's never had a problem with my sexual preferences, either. She married me, didn't she?"

"As long as it's not going to cause issues for you keeping your daughter."

"No." Danny smiled. "But I appreciate the concern." His hand moved lower, finally, Steve's cock rising to meet it. "Now if we're done with The Talk, can we maybe go back to the sex?"

"Talking is highly overrated," Steve said, turning towards Danny and capturing his lips for a kiss.

\---

END

**Author's Note:**

> Want to learn more about me and my writing? Visit my page at <http://www.jamiemeadowswrites.com/>

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Art: Fate](https://archiveofourown.org/works/564259) by [uxseven (ignemferam)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ignemferam/pseuds/uxseven)




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